


I'll Put You Back Together Again

by BlakeAmadeus



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bottom Daryl, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gay Sex, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Lots of Rick and Daryl sex, Love Confessions, M/M, Only a little out of character, Out of Character, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rape, Separation Anxiety, Separations, Smut, Top Rick
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-16
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-04-26 16:35:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5011909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlakeAmadeus/pseuds/BlakeAmadeus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryl is a broken piece of glass, and Rick has his own cracks. They feed off each other's strength when they grow weary, and that is what Daryl believes causes him to fall in love. With the 'brotherly' bond and their incredible trust, its impossible not to fall in love with the man.<br/>They both face many traumas. Rick lost his wife right before the world went to shit, now he has to control two very young children and lead a group to survival. On top of that, he has to hide his developing feelings and urges to help a man he's come to love. Neither of them know how to react, know how to deal with these feelings. But after Daryl is beaten, raped and loses his brother; both men can't hide their feelings any longer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Don't Say a Word

**Author's Note:**

> This story is somewhat following the timeline/plot of the show, but not really at the same time. It first takes place at the farm, where there will be a rape scene. Then it will move on from there.  
> Hopefully you'll like this, and thank you for reading!

Puffs of hot breath clouded in front of Shane's nose, he was breathing heavily and angrily. Even the crickets seemed to sense his rage because as he walked past the bushes in which they were hiding, they ceased their chirping. It was Rick again, and Andrea, and those damn people who owned the farm. He hated everyone, wanted to kill everyone, he just needed something to do.

He had been caught trying to get in Andrea's pants. It was all fun and games at first, she had thought, until his hands became rough and unforgiving. She began to shout at him, hitting him on the shoulders in anger and terror. Rick and Hershel heard her, and came running into the living room, which was empty other than Andrea and Shane. 

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Rick yelled, pulling the other man off of her. 

Shane put his hands up and grumbled. "I didn't do anything wrong,"

"We heard her screaming 'no,'" Hershel said. 

Andrea hugged herself tightly, eyes wide and breathing heavily. "Don't ever touch me again,"

Shane spit on the floor in annoyance and left the room. Hershel helped Andrea to the kitchen and made sure she was alright, while Rick stared at the door that his former best friend had just slammed behind him.

Now he was stomping through the fields, looking for something to punch. He was still hard in his pants, and for some reason that made him even angrier. It was dark, and only the moonlight was there to show him where he was going, even though didn't exactly know where that was. He ended up stumbling upon a fire, and eventually realized it was the 'redneck Daryl's' camp, all the way out in the fields. He stood, thinking quietly for a moment before groaning. The hunter heard this, and crawled out of his tent to inspect what was going on. 

"The hell are you doin' here?" he asked, getting on his feet.

"I went for a walk," Shane said.

Daryl swatted the air with his hand and turned back toward his tent. "Keep walkin' then," 

The ex cop smiled and put his hands on his hips. "Nah, I think I'm gonna stay right here,"

The hunter turned slightly and gave him an angered look. "Go on n' get outta here, go!" 

Shane said nothing, only smirked and stared back. His erection was still there, and visible in his pants.

"What is wrong with you? Take your hard on n' leave, sicko."

Taking his opportunity, Shane cuffed Daryl on the back of the head as he turned back toward his tent. The hunter yelped and fell to his knees, he was barely conscious. His vision was blurry, his head was spinning, and there was a ringing in his ears. He felt his legs being lifted and then his body drag away from the tent.

"I'm gonna use you for a little while," Shane said.

Daryl was becoming aware of his situation, even though his head was still swirling in pain. He made an effort to kick at his attacker, but Shane had a strong grip. He slammed his fist down on the hunter's calf, laughing as Daryl screamed in pain. Once Shane felt that he was far enough out, he let the other man's legs fall and hit the earth with a thud. Daryl began to crawl away in an attempt to escape, but he was going at a painfully slow pace. The other man laughed, it was truly an evil noise that came from his throat. He grabbed the leg that he had previously hit, lifted his own foot and stomped down onto Daryl's leg. The hunter screamed, they had both heard the crack of the bone.

"That'll teach you," Shane said.

He started to yank the other man's pants off of his body. Daryl tried to squirm away again, but the mixture of pain from his broken leg and Shane's strong hands kept him still.

"You sick fuck!" Daryl yelled. He groaned and then spit in the others face. Shane only whipped the goo from his nose and kicked the other in the ribs.

"Quit strugglin', and quit your whinnin'. Nobody's gonna hear you out here."

Daryl hated to admit it, but he knew that the other was right. It was dark, and they were so far out in the fields that the house looked tiny. Besides, he was so embarrassed that this was even occurring that he didn't exactly want anyone to find him like this. 

_He's gonna fuckin' rape me._

Was going through his head over and over again. He didn't know how he would recover from this, because he knew already that he couldn't stop it. He didn't want to tell anyone about this, that would be incredibly embarrassing. He was a Dixon, a skilled hunter and not one to be emotionally damaged. Nor physically, by other people that is. But this _was_ happening, and he didn't know how to stop it. He was afraid, and he hated to admit that- even to himself.

He was whimpering in agony and forcing his body to face away from the other man, he was bare from the waste down and so was Shane. The hunter was rolled onto his stomach, with his hands being held together by Shane's on his lower back. Daryl felt a wet hand invade his lower region, just barely swiping over him before pulling away. 

"Yer a sick fuck," Daryl groaned, words slurred.

Shane grabbed the back of the hunter's neck and tightly squeezed. "You best shut up, before I break your other leg." He then proceeded to push himself into Daryl, letting out a disgusting moan. Daryl cried out, he was in so much pain, more pain then he had ever experienced before. The man on top of him had a brutal grip on the nape of neck, and a hard knee pressed against his broken leg. And now he was pushing himself in and out of the hunter at an agonizing rate. The small dose of spit that Shane had rubbed onto him earlier had done no good, because Daryl could feel himself be torn apart and the blood run down his thighs. 

"S-stop!" 

The ex cop grunted and pushed his knee harder against the broken bone, causing the hunter to cease all pleas and just scream.

It didn't go on long, Daryl was grateful for that. It was only about 20 minutes, until Shane finally came. He pulled out and stood, pulling his discarded clothes back on. He stared at Daryl, who lay limp on the ground. Smiling to himself, he began walking back to the house. 

"Thanks."

 

* * *

 

He had not moved at all when barely a half hour later, Daryl heard heavy footsteps near him. He frantically tried crawling away, whimpering as his leg and freshly abused body sent jolts of pain through him.

Daryl felt as though he was dying, and he came to the conclusion that he was in too much pain to move any more. "No more, just leave me to the walkers you sick bastard," he said quietly. 

He felt hands on his shoulders and upper back, and he was about to squirm away when he realized that the hands were not rough like Shane's were. 

"Daryl, oh my god," 

Rick. The hunter felt grateful that someone was there to help him, but on the other hand, he felt so ashamed and so embarrassed.

"What.. What happened?" Rick said, gasping as he saw the bloody mess of Daryl's lower region. "Who did this?"

Daryl couldn't breath, he gasped for air. "Don't look at me," 

Rick wanted to cry, he really did. Someone was going to pay for this, he swore they would. "Please, just let me help you,"

"Don't need yer help." The hunter cried as his leg was accidentally bumped by the others foot.

"Fuck, your leg, Sorry! We have to get you to Hershel," 

"No!" Daryl cried. "I don't want anyone seein' me like this," he turned to face Rick, as much as his body would let him. His eyes were wide and red, and his face was flushed. 

Rick's heart dropped. "You need help, you'll die if I don't get you there." He lifted his hand to place on the others cheek, but realized it would be unwise, so he settle it on the man's shoulder instead. "No one has to know, I'll take you back and it would only be me and Hershel who will know, I promise." 

The hunter was exhausted, in agony, and full of trust in Rick. So, he agreed to make the long trudge back to the house.

Every step was worse than the one before it. The only thing Rick was able to do to ease some of Daryl's embarrassment was to wrap his jacket around the others waist, so he could be covered up. Putting his jeans back on went through Rick's head, but was quickly dismissed due to the broken leg. He pulled Daryl's arm over his shoulder and let all of his weight practically rest on him. Daryl grunted as he had to hop on his one foot, feeling the jolt go through his useless leg and send shock waves up his body. 

"Tell me who did this," Rick demanded. 

"Don't need you to know,"

The older man huffed, "No, I need to know which son of bitch did this,"

"I don't need you takin' care of me," the hunter snapped.

"I'm not letting whoever did this to get away with it! Just tell me!"

"Who do you fuckin' think, Rick?! Shane did this. He fuckin' knocked me out, broke my leg, and did this shit to me!"

Rick's knees became weak for a moment. He shook his head, and anger clouded in his head.

"Should've known," he growled. 

Daryl grunted. "You really should have."

The younger man let out a cry as his leg was dragged along the ground, because he was too weak to hold it up any longer. 

"Enough of this," Rick said. He leaned down and curled his arm under the hunter's legs and lifted.

Daryl went red. "Don't carry me bridal style!" 

This made Rick smirk. "It's less painful this way, sweetheart."

The younger man relaxed slightly. "Just shut up."

Rick carried Daryl the entire way back, neither uttering another word. Daryl did feel slightly better, now that he didn't have to hop. He felt safe in this man's arms. As they reached the house, Rick quietly made his way inside and laid the other man on a bed in one of the empty rooms. Hershel and some of the others were still awake, discussing tomorrow's chores and a possible run for Glenn and Maggie. 

"Hershel, I need you to come with me. There's been an accident." Rick said, rushing into the room.

The vet stood quickly, along with Patricia and Maggie. 

"What's happened?" Patricia asked.

"I can explain later, but right now, I just want Hershel."

They nodded and let Hershel go with Rick to his room. Upon seeing Daryl, his eyes became wide, but he said nothing. The limp man on the bed had passed out, but he was still breathing, and that's all that Rick cared about. After his short yet thorough examination, he spoke.

"His leg is broken, and his ribs are bruised. He has torn..." Hershel didn't need to say it, because Rick already knew. "We need to stop the bleeding, and set the bone. I'm going to need Patricia for that-"

"No." Rick said. Hershel turned back to question. "He doesn't want anyone to see him like this, he wants us to be the only ones to know. Is there anyway I could help you instead?" 

The doctor sighed, but nodded. "You have to do everything I say,"

"Of course," Rick agreed. 

They went to set the bone first, and Rick was instructed to hold Daryl down. He knelled down on the bed beside the unconscious man and let most of his weight rest on Daryl's upper body and arms, while his arm grasped onto the man's unhurt leg as hard as he could. Hershel grabbed the broken leg and shifted it, then pushed. Daryl awoke with a scream, and tried to struggle.

"Hold him!" Hershel yelled, trying to keep the leg in a good position.

"Daryl! We're trying to help!" Rick cried.

The abused man beneath him cried in pain, his voice hoarse. "Rick, stop!"

The older man lifted his hand carefully to stroke Daryl's hair and hush him. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, it'll be over soon."

Daryl stared back up at him, groans escaping his throat, but he did his best to hold still. After a couple of minutes, Hershel successfully set the bone and wrapped it with bandages and a splint.

"Get me pain killers and the white kit on the shelf,"

Rick did as he was told, and brought the doctor the pain killers, IV bag, syringe, and the white unlabeled box on the shelf. Hershel set up the IV bag and quickly inserted the pain killers. Daryl thanked him quietly, excitedly waiting relief.

"Rick," Hershel said, pausing after he had opened the white box.

Rick took a look at the box, and then quickly looked away. It was filled with needles and thread, Q-tips, rubbing alcohol, and everything else you'd need to repair cuts or clean wounds.

"You may want to step out,"

He looked at Daryl, who refused to look back, and then back at Hershel. "A-alright." 

He then stepped into the living room, shutting the door behind him. Patricia stood from her place on the couch, silently asking.

"He's got it," 

Rick then walked out. He was on a new mission. Daryl was safe and in the care that he needed, but now he needed to find Shane. He needed to find him, and he needed to kill him.

The first place that came to mind was the barn. He had a feeling that Shane would go there to be alone, and he was right. He found the man sitting in the middle of the hay, with his back to the door.

"Shane," Rick growled. 

The other man didn't turn around. "Leave me be,"

"Not until I get an explanation," 

Shane did turn at this, and he smiled as well. "Found the redneck?"

Rick took a couple steps forward. "I did, find _Daryl_ , in the fields. Left for dead," 

The man stood up and chuckled. "Was just having some fun. I mean, you did ruin my time with Andrea earlier." 

There was about two seconds of silence before Rick snapped. He yelled and punched the other man in the jaw. Shane expected it, but it still caught him a little off guard. He didn't wait for the man to regain any composure, he only took another punch, and then another. He didn't stop until Shane was laying on the ground with his face a mere bloody stump. 

He coughed a couple times, and spit blood onto the hay beside him. Rick stood, breathing heavily, his hand bloody and raw.

"What the hell happened to you?" he questioned. 

Shane laughed. "I could ask you the same thing."

"Why did you do that to him?" 

"Because, Rick, I haven't had a good fuck since the world went to shit." he smiled. "Actually, I haven't had a good fuck since Lori died."

Rick cocked his head. "What are you saying?"

Shane looked sinister. "I'm saying, that before Lori died, I was fucking her. 'Bout time you found out," 

"No," Rick shook his head furiously, and began pacing back and forth. 

"Oh yeah. I was-"

"Shut up!" Rick screamed. He pulled out his handgun and repeatedly fired shots. He was in too much of a rage to register what he was doing, the only thing going through his mind was 'kill, kill, kill.' Even after he ran out of bullets, he kept pulling the trigger. Shane was already on the ground, dead. Rick dropped to his knees, head in his hands, and he cried. 

He had almost forgotten the pain from Lori's death, he was beginning to feel alright again. Ever since he had met Daryl he felt as though he was truly healing. But now, everything felt like a knife, cutting the wound open once again. He cared about Daryl, and to see him hurt like that made his heart ache. It felt even more painful than when Lori died. He guessed that was a sign that their marriage was a sham. But he still felt deeply depressed to think of his wife's death again, and to learn that she and Shane were having an affair? His heart felt like it was shattering, he could physically feel it. 

Soon he stood back up, neglecting to look at his former friend, and walked calmly back out of the barn. He still had tears in his eyes, but he held no expression. As he walked into the house, he was greeted by Hershel.

"He's stable, and asleep right now. I've cleaned him up and everything. This will stay between the three of us, like he wants." 

Rick's face softened as he heard the news. "I can't thank you enough,"

Hershel smiled. "Glad I was able to help." 

He began to walk away but Rick grabbed his arm. "Wait," he looked away. "Do you think I could see him?"

"Go ahead, just be careful of his leg." Hershel smiled, and nodded. 

Rick smiled and they parted. He slowly opened the door and peeked inside. There, Daryl lay on the white bed, sleeping soundly. Rick closed the door behind him and sat in the chair beside the bed. He smiled at the sight, he even felt a little better. He didn't understand it, but he enjoyed it. The fact that he could feel whole again, or sane again when he was around Daryl. He still felt his heart ache, but Daryl made the pain bearable. 

If Rick didn't know any better, he would say he loved Daryl. 


	2. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl wakes up. He and Rick have a lot to talk about.

Daryl woke up a number of hours later, the pain meds were mostly worn off, and his leg was aching. Upon opening his eyes he saw Rick, barely two feet away in an old wicker chair. His head was sagging on his shoulder and his mouth was parted slightly. Daryl stared for a moment, smiling softly. He vowed to never say it aloud, nor ever think it again, but he thought that the man in front of him looked cute. Manly as well, and if there were a word to describe someone as 'manly cute,' then he'd describe sleeping Rick as just that. The way that his mouth hung open slightly, letting out a string of adorable snores and mumbles, and the way his nose twitched when he took a breath in. Daryl loved it, thought that it was the cutest thing he'd ever seen.

Waking Rick seemed like a crime, and he hated to do so, but his leg was beginning to throb.

"Hey," he whispered. "Rick,"

He tried to lean over to tap the man, a careless mistake. Just the movement from his upper body caused him to grunt in discomfort.

"Damn it..." he said, breathing heavily.

Rick awoke a moment later, jumping from his chair upon seeing the other man wince. 

"Pain meds," Daryl groaned.

"More?" Rick asked.

Daryl nodded his head furiously, eyes shut tightly. Rick ran out of the room to find Hershel, after deciding that he didn't want to risk screwing up the task. He came back with the doctor less then a minute later, and before he knew it, there was more pain meds in his IV and Hershel was gone. There was still an ache, but as time went on it faded more and more. He looked over to Rick, who was sitting on the edge of his seat and watching him worriedly. 

"You okay?" 

"Better," Daryl nodded.

Rick relaxed. "Had me worried there."

"Told ya before, don't need to be takin' care of." he snorted.

"Didn't say that. Just meant, I was worried."

"Why's that?"

"Well- just, fatherly instinct you could say,"

Daryl chuckled. "Real funny,"

"I try," Rick laughed.

His smile made the hunter feel warm, and of course happy. 

"What time is it?" Daryl questioned.

Rick smiled again, causing the warmth to fill the other man's body again. "Well, I left my watch with Carl. But I'd say about 6 in the morning, the sun's comin' up."

"Good to know," 

There was a small knock on the door, followed by Hershel stepping into the room.

"How are you doing?" he asked.

"Not s'bad anymore," 

"That's good." 

Daryl nodded and looked down. "You got anythin' I could eat?" 

"I could ask Patricia to make you a sandwich. But first, I wanted to know how you're going to go about this. Some people are asking questions. I haven't said anything out of respect for your wishes, but I just wanted to know."

The hunter turned a deep red, averting his gaze. "Don't know just yet. Could say it was a huntin' trip gone wrong.."

"That could work," Hershel said.

"...But right now, a sandwich would be nice,"

Rick smiled and let out a breathy laugh. Hershel smiled as well, and promised to be back momentarily. Daryl turned back to Rick and awkwardly nodded his head. He barely kept eye contact for more than a few seconds. His cheeks were still stained pink with shame, and it made Rick's heart throb in pain.

"You gonna be alright?"

"I'll be fine, s'nothin',"

Rick didn't know how to tell him that everything was going to be okay, that he would always be there to protect him. How could he say that to the man whom thought of him as a brother? It just didn't seem logical, didn't seem like the odds were in his favor.

"You don't have to stay closed off around me," he decided to start there.

Daryl's brow furrowed together nervously. "Ain't closin' myself off, just have nothin' to say,"

"I understand, I'm sorry." Rick nodded.

The hunter looked at him for a moment, and sighed. "Don't be sorry,"

"I don't want to overstep any boundaries,"

"You haven't done that yet, so don't be sorry for somethin' you ain't done," Daryl snapped.

"Yet?" 

"You know what I mean," the hunter huffed, turning even more pink.

Rick wanted to smile, because the tone of the conversation had become somewhat lighthearted. But he knew all too well what it was masking, and it made his stomach churn.

* * *

 

About an hour passed. Daryl had eaten, and they were now playing with a deck of cards that Hershel had stolen from Beth's room. The game was random, only because they couldn't remember how to play any old card games from before the world died. Daryl actually began to smile, which was a rare sight in general, but it made Rick feel relieved. And incredibly grateful.

"How's the leg?" he asked, eyes fixed on his cards.

"Still hurts, not as bad as last night."

"I bet."

Daryl grunted and laid down his cards, rolling onto his back gently. "I don't know what I'm goinna to do, Rick,"

He loved when Daryl said his name. Absolutely adored it, couldn't get enough of it. But he didn't like this time, not as much as he usually did. The whisper was sad, vulnerable.

"...I wanna kill him,"

The color in Rick's face drained immediately.

Rick laid down his cards now, rubbing his temple. "He's already dead,"

Daryl's head snapped toward him. "What...?"

The leader nodded.

"What did you do? When the hell did you even do it? God damn it, Rick." he tried so hard to sound angry, he even raised his voice, but he sounded more relieved than anything.

"Look," Rick said, finally raising his eyes to stare into the other man's. "I shot him. Last night when Hershel was patching you up."

Daryl fell silent for a long time, staring at the wall. "You shouldn't have done it," he finally stated blankly.

There was no reply, and the silence rolled on.

"I meant to kick him out of the group, let him go on his own. But then he started talking about you, about Lori... I, couldn't take it..."

Daryl lifted his head to look into the other man's eyes. "M'sorry,"

Rick chuckled and whipped his eyes. "Why're you sorry? You didn't do anything,"

The hunter shrugged awkwardly and said nothing more.

The leader sighed and shook his head. "I'm the one who should be sorry. Hershel and I caught Shane forcing himself on Andrea just a couple hours earlier, and even though I knew that I never connected the dots. I didn't even think to go after him after we stopped him from hurting Andrea."

"This ain't yer fault, don't start feelin' like it is."

"I just feel like I could've done more."

"...Well, I don't think that. So get over it."

Rick sighed quietly. "You're real brave, you know that. And a hell of a lot stronger than I am,"

Daryl crossed his arms, his cheeks turning pink. " Why you talkin' like that?"

"I just wanted you to know that's how I felt."

The hunter was flustered, embarrassed, and didn't want to talk anymore. "I'm gonna sleep," he said before turning onto his good side.

Rick nodded awkwardly, knowing full well that he had probably said too much of the wrong things. "Okay,"

Daryl neglected to look up or even open his eyes as the other man left, he actually closed them tighter, fighting to keep his composure and not cry.


	3. Dreams and Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl starts having vivid nightmares, and Rick does everything he can to help him.

The sickening voice echoed through his head. "Quit struggling,"

Beads of sweat dripped down his forehead. _Why am I reliving this._ He thought, as he began gasping for breath.

He felt the hands; rough against his skin, tearing and ripping his jeans away. And then he felt the intruding hand, and he couldn't hold back a shout for help. Then the kick came, sharp and unforgiving. The burning sensation was back, and he was silenced once again. It felt as though he was gargling acid, and crying for help was useless. The extreme pain from his leg was almost too much, yet he knew that the moment Shane forced himself inside it would become much worse.

He reached out, trying to grab something; anything. There was nothing there, yet he still fought to pull himself away. His leg dragged roughly, it was agonizing.

The hands were there once again, and pulling him back. He screamed again, and he fought, thrashing and punching. His eyes were tightly shut and he was sweating profusely. He didn't know that this level of pain was possible, all he knew was that he just wanted to die. The pain was too much, and having to go through the event again would tear him apart. He'd rather be dead.

"Stop!" he screamed. "Stop it!"

It came out as a sob, more than anything. Especially since the other man's hands were invading, tearing him into pieces. The occasional jab to his leg didn't help either. The pain was turning into a burning white heat, his ears started to ring, and he couldn't even open his eyes any longer.

"Rick!" he screamed, voice rough and cracking through his sobs.

"Daryl!"

He barely heard it. The screech of the other man. Daryl believed it was Shane, screaming at him to be quiet once again.

"Daryl!"

There it was again. Repeating over and over until the word sounded odd. What was even more odd about it was that the voice morphed into a kinder tone. Daryl didn't understand this, how could there be any sort of kindness in reliving rape.

"Daryl!"

 _Just make it stop._ He thought, he pleaded. He didn't know if he was pleading to God or to nothing but his empty mind, frankly he didn't care.

"Please!"

And suddenly, as soon as he heard the plea, everything stopped. He recognized the voice after that, he understood what was going on.

Daryl opened his eyes and frantically looked around. He was met by the image of Rick, practically in tears, staring at him. He was on the bed with the hunter, hunched over him in worry. Daryl looked past him, and around him, making sure that it was in fact a dream, and not a cruel joke.

"...Rick?" it was barely a whisper, but the man above him heard it.

Rick gently leaned forward and gathered the other man in his arms and held him. Daryl let out a huge breath, after realizing that he had been holding it in. He began to shutter and cough, trying to catch his breath.

Daryl felt incredibly stunned. He was still recovering from the nightmare, and now he was being held in Rick's arms. Usually, he would push away, scream and throw a couple punches. But with being in the state that he was, he didn't have those options. And, he didn't want to do any of that. He felt safe, for the first time in an incredibly long time. He hadn't even felt safer than he did in that moment than before the world died.

"He's not here," Rick whispered. "I promise."

The hunter shuttered once again, trying so hard to hold back his tears. But it was no use. He grunted in agony and turned his face against the other man's chest and cried. One of his hands gripped the fabric of the others shirt and tightly squeezed it into a fist. Daryl heaved and coughed, and cried louder than Rick had ever thought possible. But he sat there with the other man, gently rubbing his back and hushing him quietly.

In truth, Daryl's screams had woken up almost everyone in the house. Hershel rushed down and helped Rick as best he could, but there wasn't much to do. He had run out in attempt to get some water, and in that time, Rick had woken him up.

Hershel had come barreling into the house, but soon stopped when he heard the sobbing from the other side of the wall. He looked inside, just through the crack of the door, and saw that Rick had everything under control. He nodded to himself, looking down at the bucket of water he had in his hand.

"Daddy?" someone whispered.

He looked back to find Maggie and Glenn, staring worriedly back at him through the darkness of the hallway.

"He's alright. They need to be left alone," Hershel walked down the hallway and lead the others back to their rooms.

* * *

It was a good hour before Daryl separated himself from the other man. Mainly because he needed to lay back down, and to get more pain medication for his leg. Rick had watched Hershel preform the task multiple times, and had been taught by the man himself how to give someone pain medication. He easily did so, and waited as impatiently for it to kick in as the other did.

"You gonna be alright?"

Daryl nodded, and turned away from the other.

Rick felt a pang in his chest. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"Ain't nothin' wrong," Daryl said dryly.

"I'm not convinced."

The hunter turned his upper body around to glare at the other. "Leave me be,"

Rick was completely confused. "Did I do something?"

The hunter turned back around and stayed silent.

"Because if I did, I'm sorry."

 Rick stared at the man's tense back, waiting for a reply. But all he received was silence.

"...Are you embarrassed? ...If you are, you shouldn't be. Don't be." He sighed. "I'm sorry if that's what I did, made you uncomfortable. I didn't mean that."

Daryl clenched his fists and turned his head towards the pillow. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping his feelings of anger, embarrassment, and longing would subside. 

"I was just so afraid. I thought you were really gonna hurt yourself. With the thrashing around and screaming, I was sure your leg was toast." He rubbed his face with both hands, groaning quietly upon feeling the sweat and dirt buildup on his forehead. "I was just so worried about you, and then when you finally woke up... I didn't even think about it. I just wanted to make you feel better, wanted to stop the pain. Just an instinct I guess,"

The hunter brought a hand to his mouth and began to bite his fingers. Closing his eyes even tighter, and holding his breath in hopes that no tears or whimpers could escape for Rick to hear.

"Maybe I got too close to you, in more ways than one. I know I went to far, and I'm sorry." The silence rolled on, Rick bit his tongue. "And I overstayed my welcome, a while ago. I'm really, really sorry about that." He got up from the bed and turned away from the other man, towards the door. "I'll leave you alone, like you want. I promise. And, I'm sorry, again."

He walked out of the room slowly. There were hopes that Daryl would say "wait," or "stay." But Rick knew it was unlikely, so he did as he said he would. Once outside the door, however, he leaned against it and sucked in a huge breath, as if he'd been waiting to do so for hours.

And on the other side, Daryl lay weeping into the pillows. As soon as he'd heard the click of the door shutting, he gasped, and whimpered painfully. He didn't like being alone, not in that moment at least, but he was glad Rick wasn't there to see him like that. 

It was true, Daryl was merely embarrassed. He'd never been held, not by anyone. So to go from absolutely no physical contact that was in any way as gentle as that, to all of a sudden,  _that_. He felt humiliated, for some reason he couldn't apprehend.

He could hear his father's harsh words echoing in is mind. What made him even angrier was the fact that he missed the feeling, that he wanted to be held in Rick's arms again. Yearned to feel safe once again, to feel warmth for the first time in a very long time. Yet this wasn't what he was taught to be. He was Daryl Dixon, and a Dixon was a strong, manly, near emotionless bastard who could win any fight. Currently, though, he was losing a lot of fights, mainly the one within himself. He wasn't emotionless either, he was far from it. Crying wasn't something that he did often, but the fact that he did at all made Daryl hate himself. He was told by his father and even Merle, that he was not to cry. That only women and queers cry. He was told that he wasn't either one of those.

Daryl Dixon was strong, however, and he was manly, in whatever way you wanted to define the word. The one thing that he did understand was that his brother and father were wrong, about him, about others. He hated himself because he was a disappointment to his father, a man he grew to hate. He hated the man with a burning passion, but he still couldn't stand that he wasn't able to make him proud. He didn't understand it, but then again he didn't understand a lot about that situation, and he didn't really want to anyway.

There was also the hatred for his sexuality. He knew he was gay. He always did. There was no questioning it. He even thought that his father knew as well, only because of the incidents that happened when he was a child. He would be out with his father, when he was no older than eight. Sometimes, when he would see another boy, he would smile and turn to his father and tell him, "That's a good looking boy, don't you think?" And his father would only smile awkwardly. Then, once they were home, he would viciously beat the boy and scream at him that saying such things were wrong, and foul. 

No matter how many times he tried to say something right about boys, his father would still beat him. As if he could kick the feelings out of son, punch the thoughts out of his head. He eventually stopped talking all together, too fearful of being beaten. Maybe his father had known all along, maybe he pretended not to know, or even pretended that it was a phase. He was wrong. Daryl knew he was wrong, but that didn't make him feel any better about the scars covering his back. They were a symbol of hatred, of something that would never go away, and most importantly, it was his reminder that he would never make his father proud.

All of these thoughts flooded through the hunter's mind because of what had happened. Because of how he felt about it, because of Rick, and really, how he felt about him. Daryl thought he would never, ever admit it (not even to himself), that he had fallen for the ex cop. He didn't know how, didn't know why. He never exactly looked into it far enough to try and understand it. All he knew was that the man made his heart stop, he made him feel safe, and he could make him smile more than anyone in the entire universe could.

But the man had been married. He had two children. And Daryl couldn't actually picture the two of them ever becoming something more than what they already were. It was too awkward to think about. Whenever he had fantasized about men before, or even been involved with another man, it was just for sex. There was no emotional attachment that came along with one night stands. But when it came to Rick, he didn't want a quick fuck and then to part as if it never happened. He wanted more. Although, he didn't exactly know what he wanted more _of_. He was too confused and conflicted to act on his feelings, or even organize them for that matter.

* * *

Rick found his way to the couch, falling onto it tiredly. He rubbed his eyes again, thinking of a way to make it up to Daryl.

He was still partially unsure of why the other man became so upset. He narrowed it down to embarrassment, however, and decided that was the most logical reason. It hurt him to think that he embarrassed the other, that never was his intent.

"God," he breathed out, leaning back against the white cushions.

He found himself longing to hold the other man again. Trying that would probably make the other even angrier, he thought. But he couldn't help wantto hold him again. If only he could gather the other in his arms once more, feel the others chest pressed firmly against his, and to ease him into a state of relaxation. 

The ex cop exhaled loudly, frustrated. He was fighting these persistent thoughts about this other man, whom he called a brother. Whom he wished he could call a lover, _his_ lover. But he would shake his head every time thoughts like that came into his head.

 _Daryl is not into men, there's no way._ He'd think.

Rick had explored his own sexuality enough to classify himself as bisexual. Though, he didn't like the label. He often just thought of it as, "I like what I like, and that's that."

And even though he did find himself attracted to men (more than women even, to a certain degree), he ended up marrying a woman. For many reasons. Not wanting to risk any homophobia or backlash from others, especially from those at his workplace, being one of the bigger reasons. Lori was a wonderful lady, and he did indeed love her (at least in the beginning of their marriage). But as the years rolled on, he found himself losing the intense passion and slipping into a very platonic sort of care for his wife. He felt trapped after many years as well, with the two children that they had together. Carl was a bright young boy, who looked up to his father like he was a superhero. Judith was only a baby, still. They had their daughter only three months before the apocalypse began. Lori died only a couple days after Judith's first birthday. Now his daughter was about two, his son about fourteen, and raising them both alone. 

He never exactly found himself thinking about Lori, or missing her like he should. It's true, they did go through a rather large rough patch before she died. Before the apocalypse even, they were both having an affair. Rick had felt ashamed about his for a very long time, but after learning that she had been sleeping with Shane the entire time, he didn't feel as bad. He had been sleeping with a man the entire time, a local bartender. Of course, he felt bad about cheating on his wife. But he couldn't help loving the rush of sneaking around, or that the man he was sneaking around with was incredible. Rick didn't think about that man much anymore either, didn't miss him, not even a little. He was more upset about Lori, about Shane. Which was expected, but none the less, confused him and angered him.

When it all came down to it, though, when he got down to then and now, he understood the situation pretty well. Shane was dead, and so was Lori. And he stopped caring about Lori long ago, and his friendship with Shane had died the moment that he found the camp. The man he had an affair with was gone, and he didn't find himself in any way upset that he'd never be able to find him. The affair was to get away from Lori, and the man he slept with just happened to be charming, that was it. Now, he didn't love anyone but his children, and Daryl.

Many times the men had expressed their love in the form of brotherhood. But Rick didn't feel that way, he never actually did. The first time he laid his eyes on the hunter he had fallen for him. That fatal fall had only become worse and deepened as time went on and they got closer.

Rick felt like crying, mainly because he didn't know what else to do. He was so consumed in his thoughts and his emotions that he didn't even notice Hershel step into the room.

"Rick," the man spoke gently, knowing that he was in a fragile state.

He looked up, wiping his face with his hands frantically. "Yeah, what's up?"

"You doin' alright?"

The leader nodded forcefully. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Hershel stared at him knowingly. "He's gonna be alright too, you know. This was a horrible experience, he's not going to get better over night. Or over a couple days, for that matter. But he will, it's just gonna take time."

"Yeah, I know."

Hershel stepped forward and took a seat next to the other man. "Why aren't you in there? He seems to do better with you next to him,"

This made Rick smile slightly. "He got upset, wanted to be alone."

The other said nothing, only nodded.

" _I_ made him upset."

Rick leaned forward and rested his elbows on his legs. Hershel crossed his arms and looked away.

"I'll go back in later, after he feels better,"

"Rick,"

"Hm?"

"...I think what would be best for him right now, is if someone told him that he's safe and cared for. That someone is looking out for them, and even how they _really_ feel about him."

The leader stared at the floor, eyes wide.

"I saw what you did, to calm him down. It worked like a charm," Hershel chuckled, an attempt to lighten the mood. "And I don't think anyone or anything else could have calmed him down like that, like you."

Rick finally looked at him then, shaking his head. "It's not what you think-"

"Please," Hershel said, raising a hand and waiting for him to stop. "You don't need to convince me about something that it wasn't. There's nothing wrong with it, with you, or with him. What is wrong, or what would be wrong, is to let him suffer. To let him replay what happened over and over again because that's all he'll be able to think about. It'll drive him crazy. But you care about him, more than anyone else, you could help him. You can stop the nightmares, you can stop him from thinking about it,"

"How am _I_ supposed to do that?" Rick said, looking away once again.

"Like I said, letting him know that he's safe and cared for. That he has someone to lean on and make him forget the bad days,"

Both men went silent for a while, just thinking.

Rick understood everything the other was saying. He wanted to tell Daryl how he felt, but how could he. He didn't even know if Daryl would let him say such things. With how the hunter reacted to embarrassment, Rick didn't think he would react any better to being told that he's being cared for. He wouldn't react well to a love confession either.

"I know that you probably think it wouldn't work," Hershel said finally. "That he'd push you away and reject everything you'd offer. That being, you know, care, help healing... Love."

The man's last word had caused Rick's head to jerk upwards and stare at him. No words escaped his throat, but his lips parted as if they were.

"He wouldn't though, Rick. He's not like his brother."

Hershel stood without another word, and left the room. Rick sat looking down, feeling like he might cry all over again.

He sat there for about an hour, trying to understand and consider everything that Hershel had said. He didn't come close, however, because he eventually fell asleep. And he began to dream of when the world wasn't sick, and when he lived in his old home. Not with Lori, but with Daryl instead.


	4. Confess Your Sins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group starts questioning each other and Rick about Shane.  
> The kids visit Daryl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a slight filler chapter. Next chapter is when things get juicy, I promise. Thank you so much for reading, commenting and giving kudos! It means so much to me. Sorry for the delay between updates too, I've been really busy. Writers block freaking loves me too.  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

The following day was nothing like the past couple had been, it was sunny and warm. There was no rain, there was no breeze that sent shivers down one's spine. It was a pleasantly odd change in the weather.

Hershel, Maggie and Glenn stood on the porch of the farmhouse, breathing in the morning air. But nothing could be savored anymore. Carol and Andrea were walking towards them, at a slightly alarming pace.

"Where's Rick?" Andrea shouted.

Maggie and Glenn looked at each other worriedly. Hershel merely stepped forward and calmly replied. "He's inside, what's wrong?"

"You need to get him," Carol spoke, voice hoarse.

"We will, but what's going on?"

"It's Shane," Andrea said.

"What about Shane?" Glenn questioned.

Carol put a hand over her mouth, tears dripping down her red cheeks.

Andrea put an arm around her. "Someone killed him. He turned and almost killed Carol,"

"Oh my god!" Maggie shouted, quickly making her way inside to get Rick.

Glenn jumped over the porch railing and ran over to Carol. "Are you alright?"

She nodded frantically, crying nonetheless. "He was covered in bullet holes. Just, everywhere."

Andrea stared at Hershel angrily, as if he committed the crime. He saw this, but said nothing. He knew exactly who had done it, and the rest of the group would find out sooner or later.

Just a few seconds later, Rick came outside. He wasn't running, or crying, or even acting upset in any way.

"Did Maggie tell you?" Glenn asked.

The leader nodded, head towards the ground.

There was a long pause. Andrea shook her head stupidly at him. "Well? Are you gonna do something about it?"

"...Get the others first,"

The blonde gagged in annoyance, and led Carol back to the RV.

"Rick," Hershel said softly.

The leader neglected look at him, or Glenn, or Maggie. He stared at the ground sadly, hands on his hips. "Watch Daryl for me until I get back," he said, and set off towards the others next to the RV.

Glenn followed him, leaving Maggie and Hershel on the porch.

"Did you do it?" Glenn asked quietly.

There was a long pause, Rick hadn't looked up. He walked slowly, but somehow began to breath heavily. "...Yeah,"

Glenn was not shocked, he was not upset. He hated Shane just as much as anyone else, yet he was still numb at the news, at confirming his suspicions of Rick. 

Upon walking up to the small crowd of people gathered by the RV and tents, Rick was out of breath. He finally raised his head, and looked at the small number of people that stood before him. He saw T-Dog, his arm still wrapped tightly with bandages, standing next to Dale, who had a mixture of relief and agony on his face. He saw Carol's tear stained face, and his two year old daughter in her arms. He saw Carl standing by her, looking worriedly back at him. He saw Andrea, arms crossed and lips pursed, anger radiating off of her. Then there was Merle, who stood there disgustedly with a smirk on his face.

Then he began to see all the faces of those he couldn't keep alive. Jim and Amy, Jacqui and Sophia, and of course, Lori. Now Shane was on the list.

"I killed Shane," he whispered.

There were some gasps, and there were the soft sobs of Carol.

"He tried to force himself on Andrea, and then he almost killed me, when I went after him."

The leader choked, and had to look away. He left out the important detail, about Daryl, only out of respect for the other man. And, because he didn't think it'd be possible to say it without bursting into tears.

"How," Andrea said.

Rick looked up, eyebrows pushing together. "How what?"

"How did he try to kill you?"

"...He shoved a gun in my face,"

Andrea huffed out a breath. "So that's all you need now, that's enough to kill someone?"

Rick's face contorted angrily. "Why are _you_ so mad about this?"

The woman crossed her arms and shook her head. "We all make mistakes, I know what he did that night was just a mistake. I don't think he should have died over it,"

Rage boiled within Rick. He couldn't fathom calling what Shane did to Daryl a _mistake_ , nor would he ever forgive him for it.

"Since when are you the one to make decisions that huge either?" She went on, "I don't think anyone agreed to that. I know I didn't,"

Dale stepped toward her with his arm outstretched. "Andrea, stop,"

"No, Dale. Do you think he should have died? For all we know," she paused to point a finger at the ex cop. "he could kill one of us next-"

"That's enough!" Rick shouted.

The group fell silent. Andrea let her hand fall back to her side, and she merely stared blankly back at him.

Rick took a few steps towards her, nostrils flaring. "I killed him because he tried to kill me, and he tried to _force_ himself on _you_. He was my best friend. I didn't want to kill him, but I felt like I had to. Or else _he_ would have been the one killing others, or forcing himself on someone else-" he choked again, picturing Daryl the moment that he had found him that night. "I'm not proud of it, but I don't regret it. Don't you dare think I just did it for fun,"

With that, he turned back towards the farmhouse and made his way back. Leaving Andrea defeated, still fuming, but silent.

Carl managed to take his little sister from Carol and run after his father. The woman was grateful, and was led to the RV by Dale and T-Dog.

"Dad," Carl yelled, running up beside him. Judith bounced in his arms, sucking on her thumb nonetheless.

Rick looked down at him, and smiled. It felt like weeks since he had seen his children, and he missed them both.

"Come here," he whispered, taking Judith from the boy.

The infant rested on his hip and let her head fall onto his shoulder. Rick smiled, and rubbed her back sweetly. The three made their way into the house, and sat promptly in the living room and sat down. Judith was moved so that she sat on her father's leg, and she giggled happily and he wrapped an arm around her protectively. Carl sat on the other side of Rick, leaning into him slightly. This was nice, he thought, to have both children with him. It was almost calming.

"Are you okay?" the ex cop asked. He was starting to worry, since Carl hadn't shown much emotion to the news.

The boy nodded. "He was mean,"

"Do you understand why I did it? What he did?"

Carl nodded again. "He hurt Andrea, and then he tried to hurt you. He was mean to the others too. He made mistakes, and you pay for your mistakes."

Rick was a bit surprised, but he wasn't looking to talk anymore about the subject. It was meant for another day. So he plopped a hand on his sons head and ruffled his greasy hair affectionately.

"Where has Daryl been?" the boy asked after a couple minutes of silence.

Rick hadn't been sure if Hershel had told many people about Daryl's 'hunting accident,' but either way, he hadn't expected his son to know much about the situation. "He had an accident a couple of days ago on a run, he's been here resting."

"Is he okay? Can we see him?"

"I don't know if that's a good idea right now,"

"Why not?"

"Because, he needs to heal. He's probably still asleep anyway,"

His son looked down. "Oh," he mumbled. "Then can we see him when he feels better?"

Judith grabbed at her father's chin, smiling up at him cutely. Rick looked down and smiled back at her, and then looked to Carl. He remembered that Daryl had always been fond of the kids, especially Judith. And it had just then occurred to Rick how much he may actually enjoy seeing them.

"Here, watch Judy and I'll go see if he'd up for a visit." the leader said, gently handing the infant to her elder brother and standing.

"Really?!" Carl's face lit up and he took his little sister in his arms.

Rick nodded and chuckled, then made his way to the bedroom. He knocked on the door and waited briefly before opening it, just in case there were any protests. Daryl watched as he entered the room slowly, respectfully.

"Carl... He's been askin' about you. Was wondering if you'd be up for a visit from him, Judy too." Rick said quietly.

Daryl felt the corners of his mouth tug into a smile. "Bring 'em in. I ain't seen little ass kicker in a while."

Rick grinned and left the room, only for a split second, and returned with an excited Carl and a giggling Judith.

"Daryl!" Carl yelled.

The boy jumped on the bed, causing the hunter's leg to jerk suddenly, and he yelped in pain. Carl recoiled, jumping off the bed in an instant, and Rick rushed to the other man's side.

"Shit," Daryl cringed. He was grasping his thigh with both hands, until his knuckles began to turn white.

"I'm really sorry," Carl sniffled. "I didn't mean to,"

"S'alright," the hunter said through gritted teeth. "Just a little raw right now s'all."

Rick protectively pushed the hair out of Daryl's face and kept his hand on his forehead. Daryl didn't seem to mind, he thought, so he kept his hand there.

He was right, the hunter didn't mind. In fact, he quite liked the affectionate act.

"Daryl?" Carl whispered.

The hunter looked over at the two children, a wave of quilt running over him as he saw the boy's upset face.

"S'alright, don't worry 'bout it too much," he said.

Rick smirked, and then looked at his children. "Why don't you go get Hershel and ask him to bring more pain killers?"

Carl nodded and marched out with his little sister in his arms.

"Good idea," the hunter sighed, leaning back slightly. "Ain't had any today,"

The leader smiled and took his hand away, letting the hunter's hair fall back into his eyes. "I'm full of good ideas, aren't I?"

Daryl chuckled and nodded. "Yeah,"

"How's it feel?"

"Like it's on fire,"

"...I'm sorry," Rick whispered.

Daryl's smile evaporated then, because he wasn't apologizing for the pain just then. "Told you before, there ain't nothing for you to be sorry 'bout."

"I just wish I got there sooner," it was a risk, to say that. Rick knew it, but he couldn't help himself from admitting it.

"Stop,"

He wanted to protest, to tell Daryl that he felt at fault. That he wished he came sooner, that he should have followed his instincts and killed Shane a long time ago. Most of all he wanted to tell him that he was falling in love. He didn't know why, or how, but that's how he would describe his feelings for the man. But he didn't want to lose their friendship. Telling Daryl that he loved him was a no go, he couldn't risk it, not matter how much pain it put him in to keep quiet about it.

Despite what Hershel had told him, tried to convince him, he couldn't do it. He was far too scared.

Little did he know that Daryl loved him back, yet he was fighting it a lot harder than Rick was. He hadn't even told Rick that he was gay, he hadn't told anyone about that, not even before the world had died. He was prepared to go to the grave with that secret. He wasn't about to tell someone who looked at him as a brother that he was in love with them.

Hershel entered the room then, the two children following close behind. He stared awkwardly at the two men, trying to ignore the tension in the room. Rick stood and walked toward the door, leading his children out.

He had work to do, he told himself. He couldn't sit around and sink deeper into the depression that he was already knee deep into. He'd keep himself occupied. He'd help with laundry, or go on the run with Glenn and Maggie.

He nodded to himself, thinking that the day would go smoothly.


	5. Us, We Are Alone Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The farm gets overrun, people are lost. Rick and Daryl confess things to each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some people may consider the way I write Daryl to be out of character, I don't really think so, but either way, I hope no one minds too much.  
> Thank you again for all the comments and kudos, it means so much to me!

It had been about a week since Rick had killed Shane. In that time, Daryl had healed quite well. There was still very little progress, and he couldn't be up on his feet (or good foot) for more than a couple of minutes. But considering that they only had a small amount of antibiotics and no actual medical treatment, the leg was doing quite well. As were the other wounds received from his attacker. Hershel had done periodical check ups with him, only about three or four times, just to make sure there weren't any major problems. There weren't, and that relieved Daryl, Rick too.

It was sunny. One of those mornings that made everyone feel content. The sun warmed everyone's skin, and that alone put smiles on each face.

Hershel and his family were outside with the survivors, monitoring as well as helping maintain the land, caring for the horses and the few crops they still had growing. Carl sat by his tent, Judith sleeping in his arms. He watched as people shuffled by him and sighed, he missed his father. He wasn't exactly sure, but he had an idea of where Rick may have been. Assuming that he was in the house with Daryl was correct, since that's where the leader always seemed to be lately.

However, being away wasn't a good thing on this particular morning, despite the pleasant atmosphere. There was always a disaster, it seemed. Just when things were looking up, something had to pull everything back down.

Andrea saw it first, and she screamed bloody murder. Everyone heard her, and upon looking where she was gained a horrified expression.

"Run! We need to leave!" T-Dog yelled, grabbing a stunned Dale by the arm and dragging him toward the camp.

Everyone ran, shouting various things, gathering supplies as quickly as they could manage. It was only a matter of time until the humongous herd of walkers made it to them.

On the inside of the house, Rick and Daryl had heard the screams. Rick had already looked out the window and saw what was coming. He cursed, realizing how difficult it would be to get Daryl out alive, but he was going to make it happen.

He spotted the blue pickup truck near the patio, and he began forming his plan: gather supplies, get Daryl to the truck, grab his children, and leave, meet the others somewhere else if he could. It was simple, his only option, and he was sure it could be done.

The hunter grunted behind him, and Rick turned to see that Daryl had sat up and thrown his legs over the side of the bed, despite the growing agony he snatched the bag in the chair near the bed. He shoved everything on the night stand into the bag, pill bottles, dressings and bandages, everything. He jumped up once he was finished a half second later, balancing on one foot and wincing as his leg burned in pain. Rick ran to his side and hauled the other man's arm over his shoulders, they then made the painful and stressed walk outside. Rick snatched the keys for the pickup off the hook on the wall, put them in his pocket and proceeded to head for the door. There was more to grab, more to think about, but minds were scattered and it was impossible to gather absolutely everything and not forget something. 

It was worse than they had thought. Once they opened the patio door, there were already walkers scrambling up the stair case towards them. Rick was quick to draw his handgun and shoot all seven rounds, taking down the same amount of walkers. Proceeding, he dragged Daryl to the truck, trying his hardest to ignore the groans and looks of agony that came from him. He had to ignore it, if he wanted them both to survive. There were still walkers everywhere. Taking down seven was nothing, because there was still about twenty screaming and clawing and limping towards them. Rick pushed a little harder, jogged a little faster, and pulled Daryl a little closer. The two men fell against the hood of the pickup, the hunter practically in tears. Rick yanked the rusty door open and shoved the other man inside, barely making sure he was all the way inside the vehicle before slamming the door shut.

The moans became louder, Rick knew there was one right behind him. Without even having to think, he shoved his empty gun back into place and pulled out his knife. He spun around impossibly fast, not needing to look as he stabbed the snapping walker right in the temple. It had become instinct; killing, living or dead. Kicking the carcass away and yanking the knife out of the rotten skull, Rick took a step forward and looked frantically around.

It was mayhem. All that there was to see were walkers. Walkers, and fellow survivors either fleeing or dying. Rick saw Maggie and Glenn driving away in a car. He saw T-Dog being ripped to shreds as Carol screamed, cried, and held her arms out to him as Andrea pulled her away towards another car that Dale was driving. He saw chaos, but he did not see his children. He saw Hershel shooting a shot gun over and over and over again, walkers dropped one by one. But it wasn't like that was making an impact. For every walker that dropped, another would rise, step closer to killing another survivor. Hershel didn't seem to see this, didn't seem to understand. Because he kept shooting, kept reloading like he could save the farm. 

"Carl!" he cried. "Judith!"

"Hey!" someone shouted.

Rick turned, hopeful, only to find Merle. His shoulders dropped and he could feel the tears threatening, promising to spill.

"Maggie and Glenn took yer kids!" the redneck shouted, before running off.

The ex cop let out a painful sigh of relief, and almost laughed. Because his children were alive, he saw the car that they were in drive away. Suddenly his smile dropped. What if Maggie and Glenn couldn't make it out, what if the car breaks down, gets stuck in the mud, or runs out of gas? What if, even if they do make it out, he never sees them ever again? Rick's knees felt weak. The tears, keeping their promise, began to spill. He swayed as his knees locked, and he almost fell, but suddenly a strong hand grasped his arm.

"Rick!" someone screamed.

The leader whipped his head around only to see yet another walker, and another dozen behind it.

"Rick!"

He looked past the dozen, and he saw Daryl. He looked past the dozen of walkers scrambling towards him and he saw the man that he loved, with tears streaming down his face as he shot walkers out the window of the truck. As they surrounded him in the vehicle, he shot at the ones surrounding Rick instead.

Something clicked in Rick, and his tears stopped flowing, his knees unlocked and he stood up straight. Barely a second later he slashed the skull of the walker that was just about to take a bite out of his forearm. He swung his arm and slashed putrid flesh from softened bones, effortlessly and carelessly. He impaled too many grey temples to count, stepped over so many black and blue bodies that his shoes became damp with the blood and oozing guts. But Rick didn't care, all he cared about was getting to Daryl.

Finally there was a break, a good amount of space between Rick and the countless other walkers coming after him. He took the chance, and he turned to pickup and ran as fast as he could. Back were his attacks on the walking dead, violently cutting the bodies limb from limb, and never failing to stab each and every one of them in the temple or the ear. He stepped over the bodies until his shoes went from damp to soaked in liquid flesh. The pickup was only feet away now, and Daryl's gun had gone quiet. Like Rick, he ran out of bullets, and was now furiously trying to roll up the window of the truck before a biter could get to him. He was slow, clumsy in his attempt to hold the handle and wind it quickly enough. He wasn't, not quite fast enough, therefore an arm came through the window and inside the truck.

"Shit!" he shouted, swatting at the clawing arm and trying to mentally prepare himself for the possibility of losing his own arm, or his life.

But then those possibilities died, because that clawing arm disappeared. Daryl shuttered, and he whimpered, still crying miserably. He looked over and saw the same walker that was about to take something from him choking on blood as Rick held it in place, shoving the knife deeper into the back of it's skull. Daryl let out a groan in relief, in happiness. He'd never thought he'd be happier to see that face, to see that man. Killing a biter and covered in blood. He loved that face, blood and all, and was grateful once again that his life was saved by _him_.

Rick let the carcass drop, and he sprinted to the other side of the pickup, barely missing the dozen or so walkers trying to grasp him. He was in the truck and forcing the keys in the ignition within seconds, then they were off. The pickup sped through the field, running over bodies upon bodies, dead and some 'alive.' Daryl sobbed, unaware that he was even doing so anymore. He watched as walkers fell to the ground, as Hershel became smaller and smaller behind them.

And then Daryl saw something that made his heart drop, and his stomach twist.

Merle lay on the brown earth, no indication of life in his eyes as his blood colored the patch of grass beneath him red. He saw as at least a dozen walkers bent over him as they tore the flesh from his bones and ate him piece by piece. The pickup slowed for a moment, as Rick witnessed it too. The ex cop put his head down as he looked past Merle's body and saw Patricia's, enduring the same fate.

"Merle!" Daryl screamed.

The hunter made an attempt to open the door, but Rick yanked him away from it and held the man against him as best he could. Then he stepped on the gas, trying his best to steer the truck properly and keep the other from jumping out.

"No!" the hunter cried. "He's my brother, my brother! Merle! Merle! No, no, no!"

"He's gone!" Rick snapped. "If we could have saved him we would, I would! But he was dead! Daryl, I'm sorry!"

Daryl hit Rick in the chest, not very hard, for many reasons. One, was that he was too weak to do so. He wasn't in the shape to actually cause anyone damage. Two, he didn't want to, because as much as it hurt him, he knew Rick was right. He knew that his brother was already gone, and he didn't want to hurt Rick for being right and trying to protect him.

After the light punch, Rick let his grip on the other man loosen, and Daryl moved over slowly so that he could look out the window. They sat in silence, crying relentlessly.

Daryl stared at the trees and the occasional walker that they passed, now that they had made it onto the main roadway again. The farm was far behind them, and now all he could think to do was sit and cry. At least, he thought, he was with someone, and at least he loved that someone.

Rick felt so empty. It hurt more then when Lori had died. Knowing his children, his son and baby daughter were gone and he most likely would never see them again.

In that moment, both men wanted to die. Yet, they were grateful to be alive, and be with each other.

* * *

At some point in time, Daryl had fallen asleep. The pain, exhaustion, and tears had put him into a deep slumber that lasted hours. Rick dared not wake him, for he knew that the man needed as much sleep as he could get. As well as he wasn't ready to talk about what their next move might be. 

Rick had driven for hours, and the pickup was about to run out of gas. So, he looked for a gas station and figured that they could hold up there and somehow get some fuel at the same time. He found a Shell station and pulled in. Surprisingly, it looked rather unscathed. The front doors were chained shut, however. The gas pumps were a different story. There were four all together, and three of them were completely knocked on their sides. They'd obviously been hit with some vehicle, and now the main navigation and pump systems were laying on their sides. The good news was, the main tubing leading to the tanks under ground holding the gas were bare and accessible. If they were lucky, Rick could find some sort of long tube and pump and be able to probe the gas from the tubes above ground. That was if no one else had the idea first, which it looked like someone did. 

Rick parked the truck and looked at Daryl. He was still asleep, Rick decided to check the store for danger by himself. Hoping that wouldn't be too much of a dumb idea.

He got out of the truck and walked to the back to grab the pliers. Rick was almost overjoyed when he first looked out the window back at the farm and saw that pickup truck, because he knew that this was the truck that Hershel kept all of his equipment in for long trips and special jobs. Not only this, but Rick had a duffle bag of guns that he had placed in the bed of the truck as well, just in case it was needed. He did this for all of the cars on the farm, but this truck was by far the most equipped. So, he grabbed the pliers and headed towards the doors of the Shell.

He banged on the doors first, before plying the chains. He looked back at the truck while he waited to see if any walkers flocked towards the doors. Daryl was still asleep, which Rick couldn't help but be grateful for. There was a sudden bang, along with muffled groans. Rick turned to see a lone biter on the other side of the glass. Rick sighed in relief, knowing one would be easy. He hoped this one was it, that they could have no more tragedies today. Rick took out his knife and held it steady in one hand and the pliers in the other. Quickly, the pliers snapped the chains in half and Rick yanked them out of the door handles. They hit the ground, and as the door began to fly open due to the walkers weight, Rick grabbed the biter by the scalp and shoved the knife into its eye. It dropped, and Rick wasted no time dragging the carcass outside and to the side of the Shell building. He thought, that while he was on the right side of the small building he should scope out the entire outside. 

The ex cop, who never forgot his stance in the case of danger, slowly walked to the back of the building and looked around. There was nothing but an overturned dumpster. He walked all the way around the building and back to the front, and then proceeded to go inside the Shell. He checked every aisle, every corner, behind the counter, and in the dirty bathroom. It was clear, completely clear. And luckily, there was a decent supply of food on the shelves. Mostly candies, some soft drinks, amazingly a few bottles of water, chips, and some packs of very old beef jerky. Rick went back outside to gather the broken chains and brought them inside, along with the backpack of antibiotics, duffle bag of guns and all the equipment in the bed of the truck. Once everything was inside the Shell, and Rick had made sure there were no other ways of getting inside the building other than the front door, he went to the passenger side of the truck and opened the door. 

"Daryl," he said, ever so softly. More gently and with more love than he'd ever said anyone's name. He rested his hand on the other man's shoulder and he squeezed ever so lightly. 

The hunter flinched and tried to squirm away from the hand, always fearful that the nightmare would happen again. 

"Daryl, Daryl! It's okay, it's Rick! You're safe." 

The hunter opened his eyes and shuttered, gasping for breath and wincing because of the pain in his leg. 

"You're okay," Rick said, "come on, I found a safe place for us. At least for the night. Let's go inside." 

Daryl looked over, to the Shell's open doors and noted that they were alone, and appeared to be safe. He refrained from asking questions, he was in too much pain and in no mood to ask any. So he nodded instead and let Rick help him out of the truck and into the old convenience store. Once inside, Rick helped Daryl sit down and take some painkillers. Then he shut the glass doors and wrapped the chains around the door handles and did his best to create a makeshift knot. He then moved one of the empty shelves that was near the wall over and in front of the door, lastly he grabbed the large boards of wood that were left behind the counter. There were boards that were nailed up so that no one could look through the windows, so he took the extras and propped them up on the shelf in front of the door, so there was no looking in whatsoever. 

Rick turned, it took all of his willpower to look Daryl in the eyes. Merely because he was afraid; of being alone with him and facing his feelings. He hadn't thought of it before then, but it was really setting in now.

"Daryl," he whispered. 

The hunter seemed composed, he held a straight face and sat on the floor as if neither of them had experienced what they really had only hours earlier. The painkillers were kicking in, and he felt like he was really going to be able to put his walls back up and his mask back on. But upon hearing his name, coming from Rick, the man himself. The man who saved his life, who took care of him after he was  _raped_ , who held him so gently and spoke to him so softly. To hear the man whom he was in love with say his name, made him lose all composure. He coughed and let out a moan of agony, then he cried, hard. 

"I have no one," he sobbed.

Rick rushed to the man's side, wrapping his arms around him and hushing him. "That's not true."

Daryl struggled against him, not enough to escape the grasp of the other man. "I have nobody. My brother's dead. Nobody on this god damn Earth is ever gonna be there for me again, not like Merle. I'm fucking alone." 

Rick shook his head and grabbed Daryl's cheeks, forcing him to look into his eyes. "You're not alone, I promise you that. I'm here, always have been."

Daryl pushed him lightly. "Don't waste yer damn time," he sobbed. "I am fuckin' trash. You saw what Shane did. Hell, you seen what my own damn father has done to me. I am garbage and I'm fuckin' alone. You need to leave, everyone 'round me just dies-"

"Stop that!" Rick shouted, tears welling in his eyes. 

The hunter's bottom lip quivered, cheeks stained with tears. "Just leave, save yerself." He whispered. 

Rick shook his head lightly, and then shut the small gap between them. He kissed Daryl, all the love he had for him just completely flowing through his lips. The hunter's eyes went wide, but he didn't pull away. This was something he'd dreamed about, hoped for, wished for, and it was happening? He couldn't believe it. That Rick's lips were on his, and their their tears were mingling together and that he was holding him, so softly. 

Rick pulled back slowly, and opened his eyes, fearful. "I'm, I'm sorry..."

Daryl shook his head, tears having halted. "D...Don't be..."

Rick's eyes widened, gulping. "If what I'm about to say, ruins... our relationship, the way it already is... then I'm sorry. But having done what I just did, I want to say it." 

Daryl nodded. He had an idea, an extremely hopeful idea of what he might say, but he didn't want to guess. He didn't want to feel like, or be an idiot. 

Rick sighed. "I'm... I'm, uh, in love with you. Have been for a while. I'm not one for that, 'love at first site,' crap, but... when I saw you for the first time, I lost my breath. I thought you were... beautiful."

Daryl gasped at the word, at the confession. He smiled and let a tear of joy slip down his cheek. 

"When I found you that night..." Rick looked down, sniffling and squeezing his eyes shut to keep the tears inside. "I wanted to drop to my knees and cry. I wanted to pick you up in my arms and hold you, and kiss you until you didn't feel anymore pain, until you couldn't cry anymore. I wanted to rip apart whoever did it to you, and then some... You didn't want me to do anything but I had to, I couldn't let someone do that to  _you_ and get away with it. Every time you cry or you're in pain, I just want to take it all away. I hate to see you cry. God, I just... I just love you so much." 

Rick forced himself to look up, into the others eyes. Daryl was smiling, tears still dripping down his cheeks. 

"If it's too much, then I understand. We can forget this all happened, forget I said it all. But if not... then, Daryl Dixon, I want you to let me love you. I want to hold you and to kiss you and to keep you safe and to let you keep me safe because I know you can. We need to have each others backs, and if we can do so, and I- and we can love each other at the same time, then, then... that would be my dream come true, in this shit of a world we live in now. You ain't alone, Daryl. You've never been alone. You've lost people, I have too. But you're not alone. You're not trash, you're perfect. You're strong and you're brave and you're the most amazing person I've ever met. I promise, you're never alone, because you have me. It's us, Daryl. It's we, it's we that are alone right now. But we have each other..." 

Daryl let out a huge sigh, smiling wider, tears flowing still. He raised his hands slowly and cupped Rick's cheeks with them, and he leaned forward and pressed his lips against the others, so incredibly softly. And he leaned back after a few seconds, then he wiped his face and nodded.

"I'm in love with you too." 

Rick gasped, then smiled. "Really?" He breathed. 

Daryl nodded. "Yeah." he smiled. "I want all that... I want, you. I've loved you since day one. I want everything you want, I want to love you too, I do love you."

Rick let out another happy gasp, and pulled Daryl into his arms. He hugged him and kissed him, his cheeks and his forehead, his nose and his lips.

They laughed like children, and felt like teenagers. Confessing their love over and over again for confirmation that it really wasn't a dream for either of them. And finally, when they were both content with the confessions of love, the kisses and the hugs, they curled up together in the far corner of the convenience store with a can of cheddar pringles, two bags of beef jerky, some sprites and some water. They sat in silence, eating by candlelight. And afterward, they took turns keeping watch, one would sleep in the others arms while the other stayed awake. To hold the one he loved, to stroke his hair and to make sure to get them both through the night alive. 


End file.
